


A Situationally Appropriate Reponse

by leiascully



Category: Green Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-17
Updated: 2007-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-03 02:03:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guy teaches Mac everything he knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Situationally Appropriate Reponse

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: pre-series   
> A/N: For [**catwalksalone**](http://catwalksalone.livejournal.com/), who gave me the prompt "Don't shoot". Any misuse of Britishisms or leftover Americanisms is my very own fault. Cheers to [**phoebesmum**](http://phoebesmum.livejournal.com/) for unknowingly providing some slang.   
> Disclaimer: _Green Wing_ and all related characters are the property of Victoria Pile and BBC4. No infringement is intended and no profit is made.

Mac was sitting with his elbows on the bar and his eyes slightly narrowed to read the poster in the shadows when suddenly there was an arm crooked hard around his neck and something pressing into the small of his back.

"Hands up, fucker," growled a voice close to his ear.

"Another pint of Guinness for my criminally-minded friend?" Mac asked the barmaid, who smiled and winked at him. Guy crashed onto the next stool and flung a water pistol onto the bar where it clattered against the collection of empty pint glasses with their traces of foam. "Is that what you were doing in the loo?" Mac asked.

"It's all about being prepared. And that is exactly why you would be shit in an actual crisis situation. Trying to appease your captors and betters with alcohol? Don't you have anything better to offer? No, wait, you don't, because no one would want any part of your puny ginger body near them."

"Surely my entire body can't be described as ginger," Mac said mildly. "Much as it's really only your head area that's donkeyesque."

"Yeah, well. I'm still waiting until they have proof that freckles aren't contagious," said Guy, nodding to the barmaid as she set two fresh pints in front of them. "And I believe it is clear that I am the better man, anatomically and otherwise. When the apocalypse comes, it's Secretan you want by your side." He thumped his chest and almost managed not to grimace.

"What exactly makes you the better man?"

"I understand the value of a situationally appropriate response," said Guy, licking foam off his lip and picking up the water pistol to sight along the short neon green barrel. "You, meanwhile, sat there like a great ginger pudding. No reflexes. Can't believe they let you cut people up."

"Yeah?" said Mac, pulling at his pint. "And what was I supposed to do, exactly? Piss myself and dive under the bar shouting, 'Oh God, don't shoot!' the way they taught you in the Swiss Water Pistol Terror Squad?" He rearranged the graveyard of empty glasses.

"Laugh all you like," Guy said, the tip of his tongue pushing between his teeth as he aimed, "but this baby's locked and loaded." He pulled the plastic trigger and a jet of water spattered over the shoulder and low neckline of the barmaid. Guy tossed the pistol into Mac's lap and put on his best innocent face.

"Nice one," Mac murmured. "You know she'll put poison in your next one. And I can only hope it was the pistol in my back, earlier. It's pointier than I remember."

Guy glanced down at his crotch with an affectionate grin. "That's locked and loaded as well."

"And just about as effective," said Mac, regarding the last of his Guinness as he lifted his glass to his lips.

"Excuse me," said Guy in an affronted tone, "but I don't believe you're in a position to comment on the effectiveness of my massive cock." The last few words fell into one of those momentary lulls in the ambient conversation and a few people looked over. Guy waved and indicated his groin, mouthing the word "massive".

"Sitting, surely?" said Mac. "I could stand if you'd like."

"You couldn't handle the whole of the Secretan experience," Guy announced, poking Mac in the chest with one finger. "Your scrawny body wouldn't take it. Because...it is massive. Have I said that?"

"I," said Mac, poking Guy back, "can handle anything you can whip out, Swiss boy."

"I bet you could, you pouf," Guy said suggestively. "You and those famous hands. Right." He tried to count the empty glasses, failed, started over, and swore when the barmaid came and collected them, glaring at him. "Fuck. Are we drunk?"

"I hope so, because I think we're cut off," Mac said, draining his glass. "Let's see then. I would estimate that we've had at least six rounds in the last...not very long. I'm so glad you offered to pay for the evening's entertainment, by the way."

"Fuck off. You need to learn to answer the question that's asked, my young apprentice. Are. We. Pissed?"

Mac considered a long moment, lifted one finger, and pressed it against the tip of his nose. "I would say, taking into account your level of wankerness while sober and your current belligerence, taken in tangent to the curvature of the earth and the skew of the league table that occurred when Angela was hired, as well as your longstanding unslaked lust my afore-mentioned ginger body...."

Guy stuck his hand into Mac's lap and grabbed the water pistol, pushing it into Mac's thigh. "Get to the answer." But his finger wasn't on the trigger. It strayed over Mac's crotch, caressing lightly. Mac hesitated for as long as he could manage, until the slow scratch of Guy's fingernails over denim had him shifting on the stool.

"Taking the whole of that into account," Mac said slowly, his thigh twitching, "I would estimate that we are, in fact, rat-arsed."

"Excellent," said Guy, dragging the water pistol along Mac's thigh. "Let's get out of here." He reached for his wallet, jamming the pistol in his pocket, and threw a few bills onto the bar.

"Going to show me what you learned at Whiteleaf?" Mac murmured as they walked out, a couple of bandits, except that the swagger came from booze instead of a long day of riding the range.

"'Whit-liff'," Guy corrected automatically, and suddenly Mac was up against the wall in the shadows with Guy's fists twisted into the leather of his motorcycle jacket and Guy's tongue hot and insistent in his mouth. He fought back, pulling Guy closer, both hands squeezing Guy's ass so that their hips knocked hard against each other and Mac was rubbing the swell of his erection against the rough heat of Guy's.

"We need a taxi," he growled.

"Admit it," said Guy, his mouth swollen. "I had a superior education."

"I've got a superior dose of common sense. The sooner we get some place less, you know, foyer of the pub where everyone we know drinks, the sooner we can both be benefiting from your education, however tawdry and incomplete."

"Good point," said Guy, breathing a little fast, and crushed his mouth sideways against Mac's before stepping out through the double doors to the curb. "Oi! Taxi!"

They went to Mac's place because "I know half the hospital's been in that bed, you Swiss Casanova."

"Don't understand why the sodding Italians get all the credit for being lovers," said Guy with his teeth against Mac's throat so that Mac could feel the thud of his pulse against Guy's lips. "Could have given that bastard a few tips."

The cabbie was studiously ignoring them. Mac pushed his hand down Guy's trousers and wrapped his fingers around the hot length of Guy's cock. "Not bad," he said, and hissed as Guy nipped at him. No such thing as turtleneck scrubs, unfortunately; the nurses were going to stare. But there were more immediate concerns, such as the damp, smooth, incredibly firm cock of Doctor Guillame Secretan across his palm. "You weren't lying much about the massive bit."

"Guy Secretan never disappoints," said Guy, and nuzzled Mac's ear, which should have been weird but instead sent a long frisson down Mac's spine. Mac shifted his hips on the seat and rubbed his thumb along Guy's shaft.

"Does Guy Secretan always speak in the third person when he's about to get laid?"

"Stick around and find out," Guy murmured against the joint of Mac's jaw, and then they were there, thankfully, paying the cabbie with a slightly sticky bill. It was a little strange to unlock the door with Guy crowding behind him, but surprisingly enough, it became rapidly less awkward as Guy's fingers worked at the buttons on Mac's shirt, as Guy's hands pushed the jacket from Mac's shoulders, as Mac's hand's fumbled with the zip on Guy's trousers. Skin was a familiar thing. Guy's skin he'd seen a hundred times in the showers, after raquetball, or the myriad occasions on which Guy decided it was right and good to strip. So there was skin under Mac's palm and Guy's mouth against his and they were both breathing hard. And then suddenly there was Guy's mouth sliding down Mac's front, and Guy's lips around Mac's cock, and Guy's tongue, and then Mac's brain went blank. The edge of the pool table was cutting into his back and he had one hand laced through Guy's hair and one hand shoved in a pocket of the pool table because he couldn't make his fingers grip hard enough to keep himself upright. Guy's fingers were underneath his balls, cradling, caressing.

"Jeeeeeeesus," he said, because he had to fill the space somehow, and Guy's mobile mouth was occupied. "Jesus Christ. Where did you learn to do this?"

Guy hummed and Mac groaned. "No, tell me later. God, Guy, I'm going to...." His balls tightened and his hips bucked involuntarily, his orgasm slamming into him. His knees gave way, and Guy swallowed and lifted his head as Mac crumpled to the floor. "Holy shit," Mac mumured. "Jesus Christ."

"You get religious in bed," Guy said. "Not that we're in bed, but that could change."

"Yeah, and then we'll never leave again," said Mac. "Bloody hell. I don't think I can stand up."

"I told you that you couldn't handle the Secretan experience. Once again, I am proved the better man. I've never fallen over from a simple blowjob. Do you think it's gingerism that has robbed you of all physical prowess, or just a natural deficiency?"

"I'll show you how I handle the Secretan," said Mac, and Guy grinned.

"Now that is a situationally appropriate response."


End file.
